


father's day

by iron_spider



Series: holidays [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 00:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15545421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iron_spider/pseuds/iron_spider
Summary: It’s Father’s Day, and Tony never really had a father. Not in the real sense of the word, not in the way that counts.Peter Parker doesn’t have a father, either. Not anymore, anyway, not since he was little, and the amount of years that have passed since then outweigh the amount of time he got with Richard Parker.Tony wouldn’t call himself Peter’s dad. He wouldn’t, he doesn’t, he doesn’t think of himself that way, no way, no way.He stares at himself in the mirror. He pulls down on his cheeks, makes his eyes water. He runs his hands over the roughness of his jaw and sorta hates everything about himself right now, because he’s acting like a goddamn idiot. It’s Father’s Day and he’s not a father. He doesn’t know why the hell he’s pining for something that isn’t his, shouldn’t be his, can never be his. He isn’t a father, he isn’t Peter’s father, so there’s no reason on God’s green earth for Peter and him to do something for Father’s Day.





	father's day

**Author's Note:**

> I sprained my damn ankle today so I finally had some time to sit down and finish this little fic, which is next in line for my holiday series! Hope y'all like it, and if you have any holiday ideas you'd like to send my way, I'll see what I can do :)

It’s Father’s Day, and Tony’s not a father. He’s haunted by memories of his own father everywhere he goddamn goes—Howard used to walk on grass, Howard saw a movie once, Howard liked cars—everything, no matter what, no matter how far removed from Howard Stark, somehow comes back around to Howard Stark. It feels more right to call him by his first name than to call him dad, which makes the ache in Tony’s heart twist a little tighter. For all the things he never had, for all the empty bottles and lost glances, for the amount of times Howard passed him by for things and people that were better, and Tony hates that the time he felt closest to his father was through an old video, through crackling film of a dead man admitting something he never could in life. 

It’s Father’s Day, and Tony never really had a father. Not in the real sense of the word, not in the way that counts. 

Peter Parker doesn’t have a father, either. Not anymore, anyway, not since he was little, and the amount of years that have passed since then outweigh the amount of time he got with Richard Parker.

Tony wouldn’t call himself Peter’s dad. He wouldn’t, he doesn’t, he doesn’t think of himself that way, no way, no way.

He stares at himself in the mirror. He pulls down on his cheeks, makes his eyes water. He runs his hands over the roughness of his jaw and sorta hates everything about himself right now, because he’s acting like a goddamn idiot. It’s Father’s Day and he’s not a father. He doesn’t know why the hell he’s pining for something that isn’t his, shouldn’t be his, can never be his. He isn’t a father, he isn’t Peter’s father, so there’s no reason on God’s green earth for Peter and him to do something for Father’s Day. 

The door opens behind him and Pepper sticks her head in.

“Oh. I thought you fell in.”

“Funny,” Tony says into the mirror.

She smiles, looking him up and down. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony says, clearing his throat. “You heading out?”

“Yeah,” she says, slipping inside. She wraps her arms around him from behind and kisses him between his shoulder blades. “You sure you’re not—moping? You seem a little mopey.”

“Not mopey,” Tony says, running his hands back and forth over her wrists. “Clearheaded. Totally—totally normal.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “You talk to Peter today?” she asks.

“Texted with him a little earlier,” Tony says. The kid had seemed distracted, and Tony didn’t wanna bother him if he was busy. 

“It’s Father’s Day,” Pepper says. “So he might—”

“No, I doubt it,” Tony says, fast, shaking his head. “I’m not expecting anything.”

“Tony, you see him every day,” she says. “You love that kid, he loves you, you’re definitely a father figure to him, the things you’ve been through—”

“He hasn’t done anything before—”

“Last year on Father’s Day was that venom incident,” Pepper says. 

“You remember the date of that?” he asks.

“Yes,” she says, kissing his back again before pulling away from him. “I’ll never forget, and I think you know too. And either way, he probably wanted to last year, and the year before, but one, sometimes you’re…intimidating—”

“Intimidating?” he asks, turning around and looking at her. “Me? Yeah right, play again, I am not—”

“—and two,” she says, ignoring him, “you guys have gotten so much closer.”

“It’s fine,” Tony says. “It’s not my day, it’s fine.”

“I’m just saying,” Pepper says, brushing her fingers through his hair a couple times. “Just—don’t be surprised if he does something.”

“Yeah,” Tony says. “I’m gonna plan on not being surprised when he doesn’t do something because it’s better for my fragile heart.”

She shakes her head. “I’ll call you later, but you’ll probably be hanging out with Peter.”

“Have fun, bigshot,” Tony says, kissing her. “I’ll just be here. All by my lonesome.”

“As if you’d ever want to go to a Gildean meeting ever again after what you did last time,” she says, laughing. 

Tony clicks his tongue. “You’re absolutely correct.”

~

About an hour later Tony gets a text from Peter.

_Mr. Stark, red or blue?_

Tony’s in the workshop, half buried in Mark 282 or something and he narrows his eyes at the phone before he replies.

_Who are you talking to? Red. Duh._

_Okay thought so_ comes through almost immediately.

Tony snorts, shaking his head. He puts his phone aside, but as soon as he grabs his wrench again, the phone buzzes. If this was anyone else, save for Pepper, Tony would be irritated, but he smiles when he sees that it’s the kid. Again.

_If you had to choose between walking along the beach or hiking in the forest, which would you pick?_

What the hell is this? He taps his phone on his chin and really thinks about it. 

_Uh. Beach. I haven’t been back to a beach since we went to Coney Island. I really gotta get back to the other coast. What’s with all these questions?_

He pauses, doesn’t bother to start his work again, because the three little dots pop up. Then Peter’s message comes through.

_Nothing! Okay what would you most hate for people to call you? Ordinary, ignorant, cowardly or selfish?_

Tony just stares at it for what feels like forever. He pushes the wrench away from him and gets to his feet, and he calls Peter.

It rings once. “Why are you calling me? I’m asking you questions!”

“Yeah, and I wanted to personally call you up and tell you how much I hated that last one. What a terrible question.”

“Just answer it!”

Tony sighs. “Ignorant, I guess.”

“Okay,” Peter says, and Tony almost thinks he hears him writing something. 

“What are you doing?” Tony asks. “Are you farming my personality?”

“Next one, uh—would you rather invent a potion that guarantees you which of the following—glory, wisdom, love or power?”

Tony narrows his eyes. “Should I stop questioning you? Should I just accept my fate?”

“Yes.”

Tony sighs. “Love.”

“Okay. You enter an enchanted garden—”

“No. Skip.”

“Come on.”

“Skip.”

“Ugh,” Peter groans. Tony tries not to smile too hard. “What instrument do you most like to listen to? Violin, drums, piano or trumpet?”

“Why isn’t guitar an option?” Tony asks, pacing back and forth a little bit.

“Because it’s not.”

Tony walks over and sinks onto the couch. “Piano, I guess.”

“Okay—which—”

“Peter.”

“Just like two more. It’s important.”

Tony finds himself smiling again, and he rolls his eyes. “Fine. Proceed.”

“What do you find the most difficult to deal with? Hunger, cold, loneliness or boredom?”

Tony groans. “We’re getting into very emotional territory now.”

“Loneliness?”

Somehow, Peter’s goddamn little quiz is breaking open his outer shell. Yeah, everybody who knows him knows he’s starved for affection, as much as he tries to hide it, acts like he’s hot shit and can deal with things on his own. But crippling loneliness definitely flares up whenever he spends more than five minutes alone. 

He sighs. “Yes.”

“Okay, listen, this next one is long—”

“You might as well just come over here—”

“I’m gonna in a little bit—”

Tony brightens, tries not to acknowledge it. “Okay, what?”

“Which road would tempt you the most—the wide, sunny, grassy lane, the narrow, dark, lantern-lit alley, the twisting, leaf-strewn path through the woods—”

Tony snorts.

“—or the cobbled street lined with ancient buildings?”

He starts picturing these places, picturing himself there. He’s getting way too into this. “God. Uh. The last one.”

“Okay. Which—”

“One more, right?” He taps his foot on the ground. 

“Two.”

“You already said two a second ago.” The half built suit kinda looks like it’s looking at him.

“Come on!”

“Okay, okay,” Tony says, rubbing his eyes. He doesn’t think he gives this much leeway to like, anybody. He wonders if Peter even realizes it. 

“This is a longer one and then one short one and then that’s it.”

“Shoot,” Tony says, cracking his knuckles. 

“Which nightmare would be the worst? Standing up somewhere very high with no way down, being buried alive, none of your family and friends remembering who you are, or being trapped in a room with your worst enemy?”

“God,” Tony says. All of them sound like shit, except maybe the last one. “Uh. Friends and family not remembering me. That’s it’s own kind of trap.”

“Okay, last one—moon or stars?”

“Stars,” Tony says, without hesitating. “What do I win?”

“Okay, one second,” Peter says, drawing out the word. “It’s loading.”

“Did you really call me to do a computer quiz?” Tony asks, somehow impossibly endeared by that.

“It’s more than—oh wow, you’re a Ravenclaw.”

Tony splutters. “You called me to do a _Harry Potter quiz_?”

“I thought you’d be in Gryffindor.”

“Ravenclaw,” Tony says. “That’s the smart one, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I mean, I know some stuff. What are you?”

“Gryffindor.”

“Wow, look at you, fancy pants.”

“Okay, uh—that quiz was also a way for me to decide, uh—my plans, but it—I was really expecting Gryffindor. So I think I’m gonna, like—combine their recommendations—okay, I think—I think I know. Can you—I know I said I’d come over—I can later, May actually said I could stay tonight—I mean if you want me to—I think I was gonna tomorrow—”

The kid sounds like he’s malfunctioning and Tony’s having a hard time following him.

“But anyways, uh, can you come here? Pick me up? Then I’ll tell you where to go, then we can come back to the compound after because, you know, because you live there, it’s—ugh—I mean. All of this is like, you know, based around you not being busy. It’s just—I mean, it’s Father’s Day, I figure, you know, we could hang out, do something fun, if you want—”

Tony’s face hurts, he’s smiling so hard. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’ll leave now.”

Peter laughs. “Awesome! Awesome, okay, cool.”

“Okay, see you soon, kid, I’ll tell you when I’m close.”

“Okay!”

When he’s off the phone Tony texts Pepper as he heads upstairs. 

_Okay, you were right. Kid’s got Father’s Day plans. WITH ME!!_

~

Neither one of them say the words ‘Father’s Day’ again but it doesn’t really matter, because everybody else is saying it. People look at him out with this kid like he’s got a long lost son, and Tony likes playing with people who are too goddamn nosy, so he doesn’t confirm or deny just to get under their skin. He could say he doesn’t know what it is about Peter that makes him care so much about him, but then again he does know—the kid’s a hero, the kid’s incredibly smart but most of all the kid is decent, he’s genuine and kind and everything Tony always hoped his own kid would be. The fact that Peter idolizes him so much makes him think he at least must have done one thing right somewhere along the way, because he never thought someone as purely good as Peter Parker could ever find anything worth looking up to in him. 

But, somehow, he did anyway.

They race go-karts in the city. They go through the Sea, Air and Space Museum, and they take pictures next to the Enterprise like they’ve never seen anything like it before. They walk through a street fair on 6th and have a shrimp skewer war, which results in a victory for Peter when he distracts Tony by pointing at some ten foot tall robot thing that’s hovering around behind them. They pick up shawarma, which Peter carries in a soft Iron Man bag he pulls out of his backpack, in an adorable move that makes Tony teary, not that he’d ever admit that to anybody. Maybe Pepper, later.

Peter planned out the whole day to the letter, and they trudge off in Central Park towards his last surprise.

“What are we doing?” Tony asks. “Shakespeare in the park?”

“Kinda,” Peter says, a few steps ahead of him.

“Okay, slow it down, kid, remember I’m getting up in years, I know I don’t look it—”

Peter snorts. “We’re just kinda sorta late.”

“ _Late_? You mean our skewer war wasn’t written into the schedule?”

“I need to remember you’re easily distracted, like a child.” Peter smirks over his shoulder.

“Wow, Pete,” Tony says. “Takes one to know one.”

“Yeah, I know I’m a child,” Peter says, weaving out of the grass and over to the sidewalk. “What’s your excuse?”

“You’re killing me,” Tony says, catching up to him. “On Father’s Day, you’re killing—me.” He mentally chastises himself. They were doing so good not saying it, and he had to go and say it. 

“Sorry, dad,” Peter says, not looking at him, and then he takes off running. 

Tony walks slowly, in a daze, watching Peter race away. He laughs a little to himself, and then he rushes after him.

~

“The guy playing me is…a very attractive man,” Tony says, taking another bite of his beef shawarma.

Peter gives him a look. “I’m telling Pepper. Also ew.”

“Please, that’s definitely one of her fantasies.”

It isn’t exactly Shakespeare in the Park. It’s definitely better. It’s a weird, often incorrect retelling of the Avengers and their story, from their inception to present day. A lot of their casting choices are spot on, save for the Asian Clint Barton, but he actually might be an improvement. A few people in the audience have noticed Tony’s presence and are a lot stiffer because of it, but he’s glad the actors aren’t aware yet. He doesn’t want to affect their performances.

He looks at Peter. He’s watching with rapt attention, as if he doesn’t know this story by heart, as if he isn’t a major part of it. They’ve got a Spiderman up on the stage too, though it kinda seems like he’s being played by a buff forty year old man. Not nearly as cool as the real Spiderman. Definitely not as cool as Peter Parker. 

Tony nudges his shoulder. “This has been a great day, bud,” he says. There are a lot of other things he doesn’t say, like _thank you for allowing me to be a part of your life_ and _I’ll be the luckiest guy ever if my own child is anything like you_. He catches a vision of the future then, Peter playing big brother to a little stumbling toddler in a Spiderman onesie. He sweeps in, gathers the kid up in his arms and carries it over to Pepper. It’s a little girl, hair like her mother’s, and she giggles when Peter leans in and plants a big kiss on her cheek. 

Jesus, Tony’s a fucking sap.

“It’s not over yet,” Peter whispers, eating his falafel. “I was thinking about ice cream sundaes again—if you can manage it, unlike last time—”

“Please—more chocolate is always better than less—”

“Not _that_ much more—”

“I cannot believe you’re complaining about too much chocolate—”

“Not complaining, just…mocking…”

The man in front of them turns to seemingly shush them, but then he sees Tony and his face falls. Tony waves, twiddling his fingers, and Peter snorts. 

“And I’ve got more personality quizzes I want you to take,” Peter whispers, handing Tony his last spinach pie. “What type of cookie are you, what kind of tree would you be, what dangerous place should you live—”

Tony snorts, throwing an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “I’ll take as many quizzes as you want if you help me finish the Mark eight million and seventy seven. Or whatever it is.”

Peter grins at him. “Duh. Of course. I was gonna beg you to help anyways. But after ice cream.”

“Yes. Always after ice cream.”

His phone buzzes, and he looks down at the message that flashes on the screen. From Pepper.

_Having a good Father’s Day?_

The Tony character on stage makes some quip and everybody laughs, including Peter, all bright eyed. Tony shakes his head and texts Pepper back.

_The best._


End file.
